Advance and Retreat
by Dr Girlfriend
Summary: Everyone's favorite gone-too-soon turian Spectre Nihlus Kyrik has a secret. A glimpse at how he spent his final days before the mission of Eden Prime featuring a beautiful human female (not femShep) and some kink. Grab your smelling salts, xenophiles! Inspired by Aria's Afterlife Forum, beta'ed by Palaven Blues.
1. Chapter 1

**ADVANCE AND RETREAT**

By Dr Girlfriend

Graciously inspired and beta'ed by Palaven Blues!

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"If it's going to be anyone, it should be her," he said, tapping a gloved talon on the datapad. A poorly lit image of a dark-haired human woman flickered on the screen while seemingly endless amounts of text scrolled by on the side.

The human ambassador rolled his eyes and took another swig of the bitter-smelling coffee in his mug. Those were not the words this man wanted to hear.

_Too bad._

"Did you even look at the others?" he groaned.

Nihlus's eyes were growing sore and irritated from reading so much in the unnatural light of the human embassy's close quartered offices. He rose from the overly padded fabric chair to stand in the daylight shining through the large bay windows. His body was sensitive to the difference in Citadel light and the light he grew up with on his home colony of Oma Ker. Whenever he arrived on the Citadel, he would feel sluggish and leaden for a few days. Drinking special mineral waters and exposing as much of his bare skin to the daylight as he could helped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gray-faced man to the ambassador's left cast a sidelong glance at another broad-shouldered man leaning against the desk. Nihlus felt the weight of the unspoken tensions between these three humans, and it aggravated him. They should have reached a consensus before he had even arrived on the Citadel.

"There are two in that stack with a military pedigree as long as your arm. One of them is even fluent in three asari languages."

"Good for them."

The broad-shouldered man tried to stifle a small chuckle. He must have been the one Arterius had told him about, the first human failure. Behind the steely professional veneer he was trying to put forward, Nihlus could see a faint echo of bitterness. This man would trust him, but he wouldn't like it.

If Arterius could have seen him now, he have would been furious. For many reasons, he suspected. Thankfully, the older turian had become more of a recluse these past few years. At first he had been disappointed by Arterius's repeated absences but gradually began to find freedom in it. He was not so young as to need him anymore, but not so old as to feel confident without direct leadership.

"Ambassador Udina is adamant that we offer a candidate with the broadest appeal to the Council. His … sincerity in this effort is greatly appreciated on our end," said the scarred man.

Lackett. Thackett. Nihlus was horrible with human names.

"I understand," he lied. "Trust me, Admiral, when I say that a 'blank face' is best. Someone without any strong connections but a good record of integrity under fire."

The admiral nodded in agreement and handed the datapad back to the ambassador. The decision was now a command.

"We'll have her transferred immediately. Captain Anderson will host you on board the SSV Normandy. Can you be ready to depart by 1500 tomorrow?"

"Fifteen hundred tomorrow, excellent. Good day, gentlemen."

Nihlus gave a slight bow as he left their office and hoped none of them would sense the urgency growing within him.

_Do they know? Is that why they came to me for help?_

He had barely twenty hours. It might be enough time.

He would stop by the bistro on the way to his apartment. They would still be closed before the start of the dinner shift. The bell on the front of the door rang softly as he opened it and inhaled the smells of roasting levo meat in the back and the heavy citrus scent of the floor cleaner. A salarian waiter he didn't recognize peered at him over a sign he was painting over with the night's specials.

"I'm ah…looking for—"

"Katerina!" the waiter called. "She'll be right out."

Nihlus nodded and shifted his attention to the wall covered in black and white photographs of Earth. His favorite was a large cityscape with tall, angular, towers. Yellow rectangles of light lingered nebulously over tiny human shapes hurrying their way through static streets. Always scurrying, never moving. He thought that Earth must be a stifling, ugly place but nonetheless he found the power of the photograph captivating.

Finally the woman moved into his field of vision, tall and slender with two-toned black and yellow hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her painted red fingertips rested over the folds of pockets on her white apron.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"I want to make a reservation."

"For what time?"

"Nine o'clock."

"I'm not here at nine."

"Fine," he huffed. He turned abruptly, not wanting to meet the woman's gaze. He clicked his mandibles menacingly at the salarian as he walked out. Nothing to do now but count the hours.


	2. Chapter 2

Sitting in the dark he tried not to think of work. His mind wandered far too often when he was forced to wait in this place. He didn't come here to think

Another man might have taken too many liberties, but he was careful to walk only the finest of lines. Only three drawers full of clothing were scattered about the floor of the bedroom, and always the same three. The men's suits in the wardrobe bore the furious scars of talons ripping through fabric. He had no idea who the suits had belonged to, if anyone, but there were always new, clean sets for him to destroy.

Holo frames of friends and family were turned face down or against the wall. The small square dining table littered with various knick-knacks was pushed into the narrow opening of the galley kitchen. The lights were all unplugged. It was a small living room, but with the couches flat against the wall the dark made it feel infinitely more spacious.

He left the frames of the large black and white cityscape photographs on the walls alone. Though their subjects repulsed him he respected the mastery with which they captured the suffocation of urban life. He couldn't bear for them to hang crooked or to become damaged in any way.

The door opened slowly and he heard the familiar jangle of the key card being replaced into her purse. She had swapped her starched white shirt and apron for a tighter-fitting black tank top that let her boast of the firm shape of her arms and shoulders. Her outlandishly tinted hair fell in loose waves over skin that seemed to shimmer in the dim and foggy light that came through the cracks in the window blinds.

"You're late," he said, rising abruptly from the white leather armchair.

"I stopped by the store to pick up some wine," the woman replied, presenting him with a brown paper bag covered in a cursive asari script. He knocked it aside, letting the contents fall to the floor with a slight crack. He was relieved it didn't break.

"I didn't ask for wine."

"I thought you might like it."

"You don't think anything unless I tell you to," he snarled, letting his tall, proud form loom threateningly over hers. Her deep brown eyes stared stolidly back at him, never releasing their hold as she pulled her tank top over head and tossed it on top of the wine merchant's bag. He flexed his gloved fingers anxiously as she loosened the clasp on the second item of clothing she wore underneath. The straps slid down her smooth bronzed arms and his breath caught in his throat as at the sight of her small, taut breasts. He could hear the pulsing of her heart in his groin.

"Kiss me," he demanded.

He leaned into her, pressing her back against the door. She grinned impassively at him, closing her eyes and breathing deeper so that her breasts were raised higher into his vision.

"Kiss me," he purred into her neck. The woman closed her large, languid eyes and brought her rosy lips to his mouth. She was delicate in her touch, kissing him like she was merely sipping wine. His hands tenderly enclosed her face, he wanted to savor these sensations for as long as she would give them. He softly pried her lips apart with his tongue, searching for contact with hers. She tasted of cinnamon. She opened to him, but only for the briefest of moments before she stopped moving completely and froze solid in his grasp.

"The hard way then, is it?"

No reaction.

"The hard way," he sighed.

Nihlus grabbed her forcibly by the throat and pulled her into the living room. She gasped for air as he threw her onto her knees in the middle of the rug. Letting go of her neck, he slapped her on the back so she tumbled onto her elbows. He dug his fingers inside the waistband of her pants and yanked them down hard. The smell of sweat and desire lingered in the fine hairs that covered the little world between her legs.

He filled his palms with the full curve of her hips, pressing hard through the soft tissue to feel the sharpness of bone beneath. He raised a hand high above her and then brought it back down heavily upon her rear. He heard her cry of pain as she sucked the breath back into her lungs. It wasn't loud enough. He raised his hand again and it fell on her even harder, but still her cry was little more than a whimper. He struck her harder and faster, watching deep red clouds form on her skin until she finally called out in a triumph of agony and rapture.

Pleased with her response, he took a moment to hover over her trembling nubile body. Her ragged panting delighted him. The perfume of her lust permeated his nostrils and spread its musky taste along his tongue.

She looked at him hungrily as he sank to his knees in front of her. His predator eyes, fully adapted to the dark now, could see the color filling her face. He slowly loosened the collar at his cowl and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, deliberately taking his time. He lifted his shirt slightly and pushed down the waist of his pants, gliding his fingers across his naked seam. Her eyes fixed upon that spot in his lower abdomen, he could feel her lurching for it but she did not have his permission.

"Hands on the floor," he thundered. She closed her eyes in ecstasy at the roll of his voice across her ears. "Eyes on me."

Her hips twitched as she watched him stroke himself free. When his hardness finally emerged, he shoved it firmly into her eager, hot mouth. He liked the subtle scrape of her teeth against him as he filled her. He threaded his fingers through her silky hair, winding the locks around the base of his knuckles. He looked down on her with a bestial satisfaction as he slid his sex against the roof of her mouth. Her tongue flicked at his tip and her lips made the most delicious wet sound as they sucked at him.

"Keep looking at me, girl," he breathed. "Keep looking at me."

Moisture was leaking from her eyes, making black streaks from the markings on her lids run down her face as little tears rolled over her cheeks. He leaned back, giving her a break from his vigorous thrusts, and let her grab his hips with her too-many fingers so she could control the pace. Small vibrations slithered through his sex as she hummed her pleasure. The fire in his core was building, he had to build those flames higher.

Tugging on her hair, he lifted her head from his sex. Saliva dripped from her reddening chin and she flashed her teeth at him mischievously. He flipped her around roughly and plunged himself into the opening between her legs. She let out a loud exultant cry that rang in his skull. He let himself rest there for a moment, luxuriating in the sensation of being swallowed. Her walls were tight around him, sending a fever through his base and into his brain.

"I am going to fuck you," he moaned into her ear.

He drew small circles with his hips as she melted over him and balled her fists into the rug.

"I am going to fuck you so hard you'll split in two."

He plowed her with vigorous long strokes, reaching for the depths of her womb. It was not enough to penetrate, he wanted to be fully inside of her, practically a part of her.

"I will fuck your wounds," he pounded with fury. "I will come inside them. And when I sew you back together you will beg me to do it again and again."

He was timing himself well, he kept her quaking beneath him long before he reached his peak. She liked it more dangerous than he did, but he pulled himself out with just enough time to spare to spill his seed across the sweat glistened hollow of her back.

"Katerina," he murmured reverently as he fell beside her on the floor. He pulled off a glove to softly brush the backs of his fingers against her face. "Katerina, Katerina, Katerina."

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**Bonus! **The song playing in my head during this scene is "Love Me Like I'm Not Made Of Stone" by Lykke Li


	3. Chapter 3

Nihlus's talon traced the red streaks on the backs of her thighs, slowly spreading the cooling medi-gel across the abrasion while she stood brushing her freshly washed hair in the mirror. The purple bruises had already begun to form on the cheeks of her rear, but she insisted they never bothered her much. Her face was clean and glowing, though water still trickled along her jawline. He turned her around slowly to inspect the burns on her knees and give them small, nurturing licks.

"Oh," she cried. "That stings."

He looked up at her with a question in his eyes.

"But a good sting," she reassured him. He continued his treatment dotingly.

"I did buy the wine especially for you. You can take it with you if you like."

"That's alright. Keep it for the next time I come around."

"Will you be gone long this time?"

"I don't know," he sighed. He placed the cap back on the tube of medi-gel and carefully put it back into the mirrored cabinet. He nuzzled at her neck, inhaling the spiced scent of the food she spent all day making and the florals of her shampoo. It reminded him of lazy summer days at home with his mother.

"Will you wait for me?" he asked somberly. He had never asked her if she had other lovers, though he suspected she must have. It hadn't bothered him at the beginning of their affair. His visits were so erratic it would have been rude to expect anything more than what he could freely take. But over the months his interest in other partners began to wane. The turian and asari women he had known gave him their pleasure more easily, something he once reveled in. Perhaps it was the end of a vain, youthful indulgence and the beginning of a grasping, selfish middle age. Approaching his fifth decade, what he craved more was a woman who would test his mettle and make him work for her. And he was no longer willing to share.

"Please, Nihlus," she said dismissively. He knew she hated this conversation.

He was growing tired of their game, he didn't want to be her secret anymore. The salarian at the restaurant must have guessed something, did that mean she shared the knowledge of him with others? Did she brag to her girlfriends about her handsome turian Spectre lover? He would have given anything for that to be the reality. She kept so much of herself, not only him, hidden away.

"I'll move you to a penthouse that overlooks the Presidium. You can even have your own car, go wherever you want whenever you want."

"And how will I pay the rent on that penthouse? How will I pay for the car?"

"I'll pay for it! You damn well know that," he said with a twinge of hurt pride.

Plenty of other Spectres kept their lovers in expensive luxury homes across the galaxy. He had been to several dinner parties thrown by Tela Vasir's paramour, a beautiful turian journalist with a flair for the dramatic. She and Vasir were rumored to have held more intimate parties at their condo in Nos Astra that he was never invited to. Arterius was notorious for the number of women he housed in several different wards of the Citadel. It wouldn't have been quite so scandalous had he not made it abundantly clear his interests lay strictly in asari. His last two had been exotic dancers with a predilection for hallex that eventually forced him to throw them out. Nihlus had since heard that Arterius had sworn off maidens and now only preferred asari matriarchs.

Katerina would have been a queen among those women. He would dress her in the finest silk robes cut especially to flaunt the regal slope of her shoulders and the radiance of skin over her collarbone. She was a woman who knew what it meant to work, to struggle and yet hold her head as high as if she had been born with a want for nothing. Her natural grace and elegance would put them all to shame.

"Why would you pay for it? Because I did something to earn it?"

She cocked one of her thin, finely arched eyebrows at him. Her large brown eyes burned accusations into his heart. His was not the only pride that could be wounded.

"I know you want to be generous," she continued. "But I cannot afford that kind of gratitude. Let me work at the restaurant and save up for my little studio."

"You'll be taking photos of spoiled brats and couples that will divorce in three weeks every day for hours just to cover rent. Let me be your patron at least," he pleaded. "Let me support you so that your talent will not go to waste."

"No."

He stood in bitter silence, cringing at the word that reverberated in his mind.

"Katerina...do you love me?"

He couldn't tell if the look she gave him was one of sympathy or pity. It took a moment for him realize he was weeping as he asked her. She gathered him in her arms and he fell into her like a child. She stroked the skin on the back of his neck and made soothing sounds into his ear. He gently pressed her nude body against him. She was cool and solid against his touch.

"I would do anything for you," his breaking voice said. "I would live under your bed and exist on whatever crumbs of affection you would give me."

"You think I don't love you because I refuse to let you weaken me?"

"You make me feel like I'm useless to you. I hate it."

"I choose to spend my time with you, do you understand?"

"Is there only me?"

"Yes, if that's what you want."

"I do."

"Then I swear it will be you and only you until the day you get bored of me," she laughed. "All these other things you want, they will come in time. Don't be in such a rush."

He brushed her fingertips against his mouth in a light turian kiss. He would wait for her. He would play her games when she wanted, simply enjoy her company when she wanted, and leave her alone when she wanted. He pictured them living on a planet, perhaps in a little cottage back home. She would spend her days taking pictures of mountains and valleys and exotic flowers and sell them to wealthy aristocrats for their private collections. One day they might even have children: human, turian, or even krogan if that's what she chose. They could keep her busy while he was away on assignment. When he came home, she would kiss him passionately and tell him how much she missed him. Then they would bathe the children together and watch them fall asleep before making love in their garden beneath the stars.

It was a good dream.


	4. Chapter 4

Three weeks had passed since Katerina had last seen him. It was not an abnormally long time, but their parting conversation had made her more anxious than usual for his return. She felt freer, more creative than she had in a long time. In quiet moments she would happily hum songs to herself.

_Nihlus, Nihlus, Nihlus._

She repeated his name to the air the way he liked to do with hers. It was like an incantation that brought her into a dream world. She drew her fingers across the bruises and welts he left along her body, reminiscing about each exquisite burst of pain.

She was going through prints of the most wildly colored produce she found in the agricultural market in Zakera when the doorbell rang. A barefaced turian in a bell sleeved green suit stood holding a small briefcase in his hands. Words of condolences dropped insincerely from his mouth and all of a sudden the world went black. From a distance she heard something about the customs of inheritance and a large sum of money. They were like rocks falling into an ocean.

The last sound she heard was the thud of the door as she slammed it in his face.


End file.
